


Welcome to Charming

by crimsonheart01



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Angry Kissing, Chibs' first year in Charming, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, New transfer, Prospect Juice, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-31 15:07:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21147698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonheart01/pseuds/crimsonheart01
Summary: SAMCRO asks Evangeline to care for Filip when he arrives in Charming. Safe to say that they don't get along very well. Evangeline was not blessed with patience and Filip is stubborn, to say the least. Rated M. (Chibs/OC Pairing)





	1. Someone New

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Updated and edited as of 10/23/2019.
> 
> Jessica Alba is Lee's face cast
> 
> Disclaimer: Sutter/FX own SOA

I jolted awake, whipping the covers away from me. I squinted, staring out at the pitch-black room. _What the hell was that?_ My heart was pounding making the blood and adrenaline rush through my veins. I leaned over the side of the bed, carefully unhooking my Glock from its holster where it was hidden. I cocked it back and listened intently around me. I took a few deep breaths to steady myself. I couldn’t stay in the typical ‘fight or flight’ mode. I needed to be centred and prepared for whatever had woken me.

  
_BANG! BANG! BANG!_

  
I whipped to my left, facing my bedroom door. Someone was banging on the front door. I jumped out of bed, stalking down the hall towards the noise. I slid around the corner, my back facing the front window. Before reaching the door, I glanced at the digital clock on the TV stand. The glowing green shone a bright 2:30 AM at me. I narrowed my eyes. _Who on earth was at my door this late at night?_ I leaned into the wall, flattening my back. I peeked behind the front window curtain and saw a group of men huddled around my front door. I didn’t have my porch light on so I couldn’t make them out. They were wearing all black.

  
_BANG! BANG! BANG!_

  
I tiptoed to the door and peered through one of the three long glass windows. There was a blonde, white man slamming his fist against my door. I lifted the Glock resting where it was eye level with the man outside before sliding the lock out of place. There was a soft click and judging by the reaction of the man on the other side, he heard it. I turned the doorknob, inch by inch until I creaked the door open.

  
“Who’s there?” I demanded through the crack.

  
A gruff voice answered, “Its Jax.”

  
I narrowed my eyes again but pulled the door wide open lifting my gun to his face. It was aimed directly at the spot between Jackson’s eyes.

  
“Woah,” He took a step backwards and lifted his hands up into the air, signalling his surrender.

  
I hissed, “It’s two fucking thirty in the morning, Jackson. Why are you trying to break my door down?”

  
“Put the gun down, Lee.” He commanded.

  
I snorted. It was laughable that he thought he could tell me what to do. Ignoring him completely I waved a hand, gesturing for him to continue with his explanation for showing up on my doorstep. 

  
He rolled his eyes, “Listen, I know it’s late but the club needs to ask you a favour.”

  
“Go on.” I motioned with my gun.

  
He dropped his hands and stepped to the right. Behind him, there was Opie and Tig hoisting up another man by his underarms. The man’s legs were hanging below him, knees just scraping the pavement. I couldn’t make out his face because it was hanging forward and his hair was aiding the shadow already cast on his face.

  
I raised an eyebrow, “The club can’t pay my fee.”

  
“It’s not like that,” Jax explained, “We need you to do the opposite, we need you to keep him alive.”

  
“What?!” I shouted, my confusion getting the better of me. 

  
Jackson covered my mouth, “Shhh!”

  
I pulled backwards, smacking his arm away, “Get your hands off me." Taking a moment, I collected myself before asking, “Why? What’s so special about him?”

  
Tig answered this time, “He’s a transfer, patching over and in real bad shape. No one in the club can take him in right now.”

  
“Y’all don’t have the extra room at the clubhouse?” I asked.

  
The three of them just stared at me in silence.

Opie whispered, “We’ll owe you big time, Lee.”

  
I rolled my eyes, “Yeah, you will.” I sighed, shaking my head. I wasn't particularly keen to take on their charity case but the club had been good to me. I moved back from the doorway and beckoned them inside, “Come on. Put him in the spare room.”

  
Jax was the first through the door, pausing to kiss me on the cheek, “You’re the best!”

  
“Yeah, yeah,” I playfully rolled my eyes, "Let's get this over with. I'm tired."   
  
Tig smiled widely at me as he and Ope dragged the injured man through my front door. Following behind, I gave them directions towards my spare room. Together, Ope and Tig hoisted him onto the bed, making sure that he was situated and comfortable. I glanced over at the stranger, noting that he was completely out. I shook my head and shut the door behind me. I followed the boys back to my front door. They exited but milled around the front porch for a minute.

  
Tig gave me a one-armed hug, “You’re the best, doll.”

  
I scoffed lightly, “Of course I am.”

  
Jax and Opie laughed. Tig let go, moving aside for Jax to come forward, squeezing me into a friendly embrace.

  
“Seriously Lee, we owe you,” Jax intoned.

  
I nodded, patting him on the back, “Yeah. We'll figure out the logistics later.”

  
The three of them turned to leave while I moved to go back inside. Realizing that they hadn't given me any information about my new boarder, I turned back towards them. 

  
Before they could venture too far off I called out, “Do I need to know anything special about my new guest?”

  
They all shook their heads but Opie was the one to answer, “Not really, no. He just needs some time to heal and recuperate. He’s had a hard time making his way to Charming.”

  
“Alright." I nodded, "I’ll give one of you a call tomorrow. Let you know of his progress. If there is any.” 

  
They all smiled and turned back to their bikes. I shut the door, locking it and dragging my feet back to my room. I stopped briefly by the spare room door, cracking it open. The man was still fast asleep. I rubbed a hand down my face, it was too late for me to do anything. Shutting the door, I continued on to my own room. I flopped down on my bed, tucking the covers around my legs and pulling the pillow snugly under my head. I drifted off to sleep with my other hand still curled around my Glock. 

* * *

**~(SOA)~**

* * *

Tig and Jackson pulled up to TM, parking their bikes. Opie had turned off a ways back, to go home to his wife. It was late and anyone who was around was bound to be sound asleep. As they walked towards the dark clubhouse door, Tig struck up a conversation. 

“You think it was a good idea to leave the Scot with Lee?” Tig asked.

  
Jax shrugged, “She’s the only one with the capabilities to keep him safe.”

  
Tig shrugged, “We could’ve given him the room at the clubhouse. I feel bad about dropping him on Lee. She’s not the cuddliest of women.”

  
Jax shook his head, “We don’t know where his head is at. He needs to be under constant supervision. If we left him here, the crow eaters would never be able to care for him properly. Lee knows what this life is like, hell I think she’s lived in it longer than most of us. She’s the best option we have.”

  
It was Tig’s turn to sigh, “I just don’t know about her. She’s too volatile. She can be loving one minute but will kill you in the next.”

  
Jax scoffed, “If you’re that worried about the guy why don’t you take him home?”

  
Tig gave Jax a condescending look.

  
“Alright, alright. I’ll have the prospect go over in the morning. He can take up a post at Lee's. At least until the Scot is back up on his feet. I’m sure Lee will be cool with that.” Jax rolled his eyes.

  
The two of them entered the clubhouse and Tig immediately found a few crow eaters to spend the remainder of his night with. Jax paused, thinking about Wendy but pushed on. He made his way to the dorm room, collapsing onto the bed and falling asleep fully clothed.


	2. Manners

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Updated and edited as of 10/23/2019.
> 
> Disclaimer: Sutter/FX own SOA

I woke to the bright sunshine cascading in through my window. I still hadn’t gotten used to the brightness of the sun out here in the desert. It was on mornings like this that I missed the Nola. Even when the weather was sticky and hot, the sun was still never as blindingly bright as it was out here. I turned over, onto my back and stretched out my legs. As I stretched my arms above my head, I realized I was still gripping my gun. At first, I was confused and stared at it blankly, then the entire night’s events rushed back into the forefront of my mind. I groaned as I set the gun down next to me.

Sitting up I rolled my neck out, working through all the kinks. Taking a few centering breaths, I prepared myself for having to go check on my house guest. Hopping off the bed, I reached back for the gun and bent to tuck it back in the holster under my bed. I grabbed the linens and fanned them out, lining them straight and folding them down from my pillows. Making my way to the bathroom I set out in my daily morning routine. After finishing up, I opened my closet to grab the first zip-up hoodie I could find. 

I made the short trip to the guest room, knocking lightly on the door. I waited to hear for a response of some sort but none came. Trying again, I knocked a second time, a bit louder. I was met with silence. Assuming he was still asleep, I turned the knob and peeked through the door. With a quick scan of the bed, I could see he was still fast asleep.

Padding through the threshold, I made my way over to the bed. I noticed that he'd shifted in his sleep. He was lying on his side, facing the door. I took a moment to examine him from the edge, noting that his face was scrunched up as if he was uncomfortable. I reached forward and pushed the hair up off his forehead to further inspect his face. I worried that my touch might wake him but he didn't stir. I could feel the hear radiating off him through my hand which made me think he was running a low-grade fever. 

In an effort to try and cool him off without any medication, I circled around the bed and began untying his boots. I tugged them off and placed them gently at the foot of the bed. Lifting his arm I pulled back on his leather vest and dared to push him lightly over onto his other side, keeping the leather from getting stuck under him. Luckily he was compliant, making small noises of discomfort but never actually waking up. I folded the kutte, placing it on the side table, in plain view. I unzipped his hoodie but decided against moving him around too much and left it as is.

I noticed his hands adorned in a few statement rings and out of fear he’d lose circulation, I moved to pull them off. Heat made the body swell and if he did have a fever, the rings could cut off his blood circulation to those fingers. If this man was to be in my care, I couldn’t have his fingers falling off. I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled his right hand into my lap. I gently swivelled his reaper ring around until it fell into my palm and then repeated the process with his Harley one. I placed them both on the side table, next to his kutte, in an orderly fashion. I reached over him, grabbing his left hand to pull his other ring off. When his hand was closer to my view, I noticed that this particular ring was his wedding band. I fought internally as to whether or not I should take it off. I swirled the ring around his finger, deciding that there was still some wiggle room with this particular ring and left it alone. I didn’t want him to panic further when waking up thinking his wedding ring was missing.

Before getting up to leave I took a moment to inspect the cuts on his face. I was shocked to see the kind of statement the open wounds made. It wasn't a particularly common injury to incur in this part of the world. If I was remembering correctly, it was specifically a Scottish tradition. The Glasgow Smile. Whoever did this to him, wanted to make him an example. Give him something to never forget, nor allow anyone to see him without questioning what happened. I could see that the wounds were starting to scab over, but there was a lot of pus building up. They needed to be cleaned or they would get severely infected.

Getting up, I walked over to the adjoining bathroom door and rummaged through the cabinet under the sink. Finding my first aid kit and some disinfectant, I climbed up onto the bed, kneeling next to him and began the process of cleaning his wounds. I added an extra layer of anti-septic cream, hoping to speed up the healing process. As I cleaned, the newly formed scabs began to crack and bleed. Taking an extra folding of gauze, I pat across them, seeping up the excess liquids. Finally, I laid out a few bandages across his cheeks and tapped them down with the medical tape. It was too early to use regular band-aids but as soon as the scabs were defined, I would make the switch. I cleared up all the cotton swabs and Q-tips, making sure that I didn’t leave any garbage behind. I left the kit on the dresser with everything else and quietly left the man to get some much-needed rest. 

* * *

**~(SOA)~**

* * *

Hours later, I was standing in the kitchen, sweating over the stove. I had tied a bandana in my hair to keep my bangs and stray hairs from falling into my eyes. I spent the afternoon in comfortable silence, listening for any commotion from my guest. As supper time neared, I started working on a nice chicken stew, with parsley dumplings. I wasn’t sure if my guest would be up for eating, but I figured if I offered something easy to eat, with minimal facial movements, he’d be grateful.

I dipped a spoon into my pot, bringing it back up and tasted the stock. I nodded to myself, good with the flavour. If it was just for me, I would've added more spice for that down-home kick, but I was playing hostess. Not everyone was accustomed to spicy food. Losing myself in the familiar routine of cooking, I turned and grabbed the bowl of the dumpling mixture. I spooned out large dollops, dropping them in a place around the edge of the pot. Once I had filled the pot completely, I covered it and set a timer. I chose to make this particular dish because it was one of my favourites and my Maw-Maw's secret recipe. Nothing like a good homemade meal to help someone feel comfortable. 

As I put the timer back down on the counter, I heard someone knocking on my door. I swiped the towel hanging from the stove, wiping my hands as I went to answer the door. Taking a quick glance I noticed a Son standing on my stoop. One that I didn't recognize but it was obvious he was here to check on their newest brother. 

“What can I do for you, hun?” I asked as I opened the door. 

The younger man at the door stared at me for a moment, “I, uh, Jax sent me over.” He finally answered.

I raised an eyebrow and crossed my arms across my chest, “Alright. Did Jax happen to say why he was sending you?”

The kid shook his head, “No ma’am."

I widened my eyes at the name and held up a hand, stopping him, “Slow down there kid, I’m no ma’am. Name’s Evangeline, but your boys call me Lee.”

He smiled, “Juice.”

I tilted my head to the side in question, "You're name is Juice?”

He shrugged, “That’s my club name, but my given name is Juan Carlos.” 

"You got a last name?" I asked, stifling a chuckle. No wonder the boys had given him a nickname. Juan Carlos didn't exactly shout _badass biker._

He nodded, “Ortiz.”

I let out a huff of a laugh, "Alright, well if you don't mind, I'm gonna call you Ortiz." 

Having already figured out why they sent the kid, I inclined my head, gesturing for him to come inside. He waited until I closed the door and then followed me as I retreated to the kitchen. I pointed to the four-seater table in front of the window, where he could sit, while I took a moment to check on my dinner. I popped open the lid a few centimetres, breathing in the glorious smell. I double-checked the timer, noting that I still had a few minutes before it was time to take it off the heat. Putting the lid back in place, I turned and walked around the island to the other side of the kitchen. All the while I could feel Ortiz's eyes on me. 

“Hungry?” I called as I reached into the cupboard, pulling out enough place settings for three. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw as he nodded. 

"Yes ma'am," He exclaimed. 

I shook my head, "Lee. Yes, _Lee_." 

I emphasized my name, imploring him to use it. I was too young to be a ma'am. 

He grinned and corrected himself, “Yes Lee!”

I smiled, “Good - dinner is ready.”

I went about organizing three bowls of stew and dumplings. Placing the filled bowls next to the stove, I bent down, opening another cupboard and pulling out a tray. I loaded it up cutlery, napkins, and glass of water. I left the bowls to cool and went about getting a drink. Circling around to the fridge, I pulled out a beer for the younger biker, taking a chance that he was at least of age. I popped the cap off and handed it to him. He accepted with a slight nod of his head. I went back to the fridge to pour myself a cup of sweet tea and took a long sip. 

“Jax say how long you needed to hang around?” I inquired.

Ortiz shrugged, “I’m just a prospect. I don’t ask questions.”

I pouted in thought, “You happen to know anything about the man sleeping in my guest room?”

"Only that he's a transfer. Came in from Belfast." Juice answered. 

I took a moment, letting the information sink in. An Irishmen transferred to California. A little bit more than just far from home. Judging by the wounds on his face coupled with the distance he’d travelled, something clearly went south. Before I let myself get caught up in my thoughts, I placed my glass down on the table across from Ortiz and grabbed the bowls of dinner. They should have cooled down enough to merit eating now. 

"I hope you like chicken stew," I said as I handed the bowl to him. 

He gratefully took it from me, hissing as he realized the bottom was still hot. 

"Careful," I chuckled, "It's still hot. 

He scrunched up his nose in annoyance but I could see the smile growing. I placed the second bowl on the tray leaving the third for myself. I'd come back for it in a minute. Picking up the tray, I left Ortiz as he tried to inhale his food. Only being slowed down by the fact that it was still piping hot. I made my way down the hall, tapping gently on the spare rooms door. No answer came, but I could hear movement behind it.

"I figured you might be hungry," I announced as I opened the door and entered the bedroom. 

I managed a smile and looked up to find the Irishman sitting on the floor at the end of the bed. There were bandages strew across his lap and he was staring lifelessly at the wall before him. It looked as though he had been picking at the cuts on his face. They were bright red and had scratch marks around the edges. I swore internally and dropped the tray down on the vanity before hustling over to him and kneeling to eye level. 

“What d’ya think you're doing?” I scolded, “You need to keep those wounds covered or they’ll get infected.”

Without a glance at me, he mumbled, “Then let’em.”

I was prepared for him to have an accent, but I wasn't prepared for it to not sound Irish. I was a bit stunned at the thicker sounding brogue. It was almost a burr. I couldn't place where it was from, but it was definitely from somewhere in the UK. 

I sighed, “Come now, hun. You can’t be like that. Maybe some food will help you feel better.”

I went over and grabbed the tray, placing it on the floor next to him. He turned to me this time and stared at me with closed-off dead eyes. I furrowed my brow, actual worry starting to flood through me. Clearly he was in more than just physical pain. My reaction must have been obvious because he turned away and stared at the wall again, avoiding my eyes completely. 

“Jus’ fuck off” he spoke, his voice thick with emotion.

Shocked, I raised my eyebrows, “Excuse me?”

He lifted his hand and in a show, tucked it under the glass and tipped it over. He stared me down as the water sloshed all over the tray and onto the carpet. He was waiting for my reaction. I took a deep breath in, trying to focus my temper. I needed to remain calm. He was experiencing inner turmoil and taking it out on the closet person. Which happened to be me. 

“You'd be best to remember you're in my house,” I warned him.

He lifted his hand again, moving to knock over the bowl of stew. In a fast reaction, I caught his wrist with my hand and squeezed hard. The man squinted but I didn’t let up.

“There’s no need to be rude. If you aren't hungry, just say so.” I dropped his hand and stood.

Turning away from him I left the bowl of stew sitting on the tray. I fully expected him to dump it out I refused to turn and see him try it. Using every ounce of patience I owned, I shut the door behind me. I stood rigid outside the door, squeezing my eyes shut. I was beyond pissed. I didn't know what the man had gone through, but it wasn't my fault. He would have to deal with his issues without taking them out on me. Why the fuck Jackson decided to dump him on me was a mystery, but if this attitude kept up, he'd be finding himself a new place to sleep. 

Once I opened my eyes, I could see Ortiz's face peering around the doorway of the kitchen. Gritting my teeth, I plastered on a smile and made my way back towards him. The kid hadn't done anything wrong and I didn’t want to take any anger out on him. Upon reaching the kitchen, I grabbed my own bowl and sat down directly across from Ortiz. I spooned a few mouthfuls into my mouth, allowing the silence in the kitchen to drag out while I calmed myself down. Spotting that Ortiz had scraped his bowl clean, I felt a genuine smile grow. 

“You can have seconds if you're still hungry.” I offered.

Ortiz gave me a blinding smile and shot up, scooping more stew into his bowl.

I sighed into my meal. I wasn't known for my patience. I wasn't going to be able to keep up with this kind of hostile reception. The Sons were going to need to figure out an alternate solution for their new transfer. Taking another bite, I decided that once I was finished eating, I'd be making a call to Jax and Clay. 

* * *

**~(SOA)~**

* * *

The remainder of the week was trying to say the least. I wasn't thoroughly pleased with the outcome of my phone call with the Sons, but it was agreed that I'd keep an eye on the transfer. I got the underlying message that they wanted him under constant watch and protection. I was apparently their best option.

The Scot, as I had finally pinpointed the accent, was being as difficult as possible. I was beyond frustrated with him. He was refusing to eat, and whenever I re-bandaged his face, he’d just rip them off afterwards. I tried to be civil. I even attempted bringing him tea in the mornings. It was all for naught because as soon as the door shut behind me, I could hear the smashing of the glass against the door. Trying to save face, I began giving him plastic tableware. It saved me from having to clean up the mess as well as not having to constantly buy new dishes. After a few days my patience wore thin and I chose to avoid him completely, in fear that I'd lose my temper with him. It wouldn't do me any good to dissolve ties with the club over a belligerent house guest. 

Unfortunately having the house guest included the prospect. I never agreed to take on a second border. Not only was I trying to keep up with the miserable Scot, now I was also playing mom to the youngest member of the club. Or so it appeared. Clay and Jackson asked the kid to hang around and keep an eye on the Scot. I knew that wasn't the only reason they wanted the kid around. They were subtly having him watch me too. Making sure that they put their trust in the right person. Another thing to try my patience. Why would they even bother handing off one of their injured members to me if they didn't fully trust me? Frustrated and tired was the only way to describe how I was feeling. Ortiz was now fully occupying my living room and eating me out of house and home. I was going to have to demand that the club pay my grocery bills, now that I was feeding two of their members. Well, feeding one of them, but he ate enough for the starving Scot and himself put together.


End file.
